International Relations
by Defiant-Dreams
Summary: Saying that America was kind of a slut was like saying Italy was kind of Italian. Wherein America is oblivious, England is jealous, and Spain still can't get over Romerica. Or, wherein America unintentiontionally starts and/or fixes others' relationships. America/World, pre-established USUK, Spamano, GerIta, DenNor and more.
1. Romerica, Spamano, USUK

i. Romano: Lovino Vargas

* * *

"This meeting is adjourned. We will see you tomorrow. Thank you for your time." Germany says stiffly. The gathered nations sigh in relief and push their chairs back, grating noises filling the air.

"Hey man, want to have an early dinner?" America asks, smiling at the Brit brilliantly as he sat down on the table. The nations pass by the two of them, chatting tiredly with each other as the room gradually empties. England's lip twitches as he regards the American in front of him.

"Why not?" England shrugs, giving America a small smile. America beams at him excitedly in return and England has to push down the butterflies that flutter in his stomach.

"Great! How does Italian sound? I've been craving for some." America chirps cheerfully. He gives England a sly, mischievous smile, and England grits his teeth at the innuendo. He releases a short breath and gives America a strained smile. It's okay. Everything's fine and dandy. America didn't mean anything by it.

"Sure, sure. Do remember that you're eating with me and be proper." He drawls. America laughs and nods, pushing himself off the table.

"Awesome. Can I drive?" He asks, tilting his head as he grins at England. England rolls his eyes and nods, his lips gradually curling up into another smile. America grabs his hand and he flushes. He interlocks their fingers as America pulls him away.

"England." Germany calls out, expression uncomfortable. The two of them turn towards him, giving the German expectant looks.

"I'd like to talk to you alone." Germany said, glancing at America with an unreadable expression on his face.

America blinks and shrugs. England looks up at him and lets go of his hand as he makes a motion towards the door.

America huffs, and leans down a little to kiss England sweetly. England hums and kisses back before he pats America's chest and pushes him away gently.

"I'll wait for you outside, okay?" America murmurs. England nods and watches as America walks away with a bounce in his step. He can't help but smile fondly at the sight and shake his head in amusement.

"So, what did you want to discuss?" England asks as he turns toward Germany.

"England... America–he's..." Germany hesitantly says. He frowns and England raises an eyebrow.

"A disturbance? Annoying? Yes, I am aware." England says in amusement as he tilts his head in confusion, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Unfaithful." Germany blurts out. England blinks, and then his eyes narrow.

"What are you saying? Unfaithful to what? His government? His people?" England asks, tone lowering in slight anger.

"You." Germany said exasperatedly, his expression upset.

England blinks. "Wait, did he shag Vene?" He squeaks. His expression changes, and he just looks upset and oddly enough, accepting.

Germany flinches. "No, but he's been trying to."

England stares at him, his green eyes flashing as he glances towards the door where America was waiting. He bites his lip and sighs, looking down at his feet. His jaw clenches and Germany looks away.

England looks up and nods slowly. "Thank you for telling me, I suppose."

He gives Germany an unreadable look and waves as he exits. Just as he expects, America is right there. He was leaning on the wall beside the doorway, looking incredibly bored as he looked around him lazily. He glances towards England and visibly perks up, smiling instantly. England stares at the floor in front of him and his fists clench.

"Hey, honey." America chirped, leering at England for a moment. He's unable to stop the giggles though and just looks incredibly ridiculous. England almost forgives him right then and there. But he doesn't.

England looks up, gaze dark. America's giggles cut off at the look in England's eyes. He swallows nervously and gives England an appeasing smile.

"I know you don't like me calling you that, man, but–"

"Vene, Alfred? Venezanio?" England screeches, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

America blinks, and then his eyes widen in realization. Guilt flashes in his gaze and he opens his mouth, "Arthur–"

"He's with Germany, you idiot." England cuts him off, practically seething as his eyes narrow dangerously at America. He scowls angrily and clenches his fists as America visibly flinches before reacting.

"We didn't do anything!" He replies defensively, raising his arms.

"Anything, my arse! Stop fucking around! Italy has a boyfriend, Alfred!" England yells, face screwing up in anger. His breathing was harsh and labored, pinpricks of tears flashing behind his eyes. He blinks it away in frustration, growling at America.

"We were just flirting!" America pleads desperately, his blue eyes wide. England doesn't goddamn know what in God's name he's pleading for, but he sure as hell doesn't care.

"Screw you." He snarls and stomps off, expression pinched.

"Arthur!" America calls out instantly to his retreating figure. England doesn't even look back.

"Arthur?" He says softly, face screwing up as he watches England slip into his car and drive off.

"Agh!" He yells in frustration, kicking at the wall he was previously leaning against. It dents and America freezes as it cracks, paint and cement splitting. He squeaks and backs away, his eyes wide. Just as he's about to run off, the door opens and out steps a frantic Germany.

xxx

"Aaand, that's what happened. After that, Germany yelled at me a bit and then told me what he said, and then I bumped into you and asked you out for dinner." America explains, pouting a little.

"Humph. It's your fault anyways, _bastardo_." Romano grumbles. His eyes narrow, and he tilts his head, curl bouncing as he regards America in bemusement.

"And wouldn't he be upset if he saw us on that dinner you offered him? And with me of all people?" He continues, smirking slightly at the look that appears on America's face.

America blinks in confusion. "With you? What's wrong with you? You're chill. Besides, I already reserved a table."

Romano rolls his eyes and sighs. "Fucking oblivious, I swear. We're having dinner together, _idiota_. What the fuck does that look like?" The look of confusion on America's face doesn't leave though and Romano sighs inwardly. He was forced by fate to spend time with oblivious, stupid people, wasn't he?

"Uh, that I'm asking you for advice? To somehow prove that Vene and I didn't do anything?" America asks as he chews on his spaghetti. He gives Romano a quizzical look, smiling slightly.

Romano flushes, and twitches slightly. "It looks like we're on a fucking date, _bastardo_." He grumbles, shoving the ravioli inside his mouth. He looks away, resolutely not meeting America's eyes as he swallows.

"Oh, uh... Do you want it to be a date?" America asks slowly as he gives Romano a look-over, a slow smirk rising on his lips. It was destroyed by the spaghetti sauce dribbling down his chin. Romano coughs and shakes his head.

"I don't like being second-choice to my _fratellino_." He scowls, looking away as his cheeks redden.

America chuckles. "Please. Vene's got that cute thing working for him, but you've got that more mature look to you which is way hotter." He pauses, a slight frown playing on his lips.

"Well, for me, anyways. And you're with Spain, so Arthur would have gotten mad either way." He continues, laughing slightly as he dabs his chin and wipes off the sauce. He smiles charmingly at Romano and Romano scoffs in reply, bitterness hardening his features.

"We're not. That tomato bastard wouldn't give a shit." Romano bites out, gritting his teeth in frustration.

America blinks, and he leans closer towards Romano subtlety, placing his chin on his right hand. He ducks his head, and then looks up through his eyelashes, blue eyes dark. "His loss then." He says meaningfully.

Romano glances towards him, their eyes meeting. His breath hitches as he sees the sensual promises hidden in them, and his own eyes darken. They stare at each other and Romano drops his fork, licking his lips in anticipation.

America tracks the movement, and flicks his gaze upwards to Romano's eyes. He smirks, and leans in even closer.

"My room or yours?" He drawls, eyes twinkling mischievously. Romano's lip twitches and he chuckles lowly, leaning in towards America.

"Mhmm, mine. Feli is out." Romano murmurs. America grins and leans back, looking much too pleased with himself for Romano to be comfortable with.

"Awesome. How was your ravioli?" He chirps. Romano blinks, and huffs, leaning away from America. Way to ruin the moment, _stronzo_.

"Great. This restaurant is actually pretty good. Almost as good as the ones back in Rome." Romano muses thoughtfully as he pierces another one with his fork. America watches him chew, a smirk rising up on his face.

"I'm sure Rome tastes great." America leers once Romano swallows. Romano flushes and he groans, dropping his head onto his hands in embarrassment as he hides his red cheeks.

"Fucking bastard." Romano grumbles, his words muffled behind his hands.

America laughs. "I'll be fucking something pretty soon, I think. Unless, of course, you top, which is totally fine."

Romano rolls his eyes and looks up to see the aghast look on the woman behind America. He glares at her and then switches it to America. America doesn't even look perturbed at the heat in his gaze.

"Let's just go back, America. You're embarrassing, really." He sighs.

America grins and pushes his hair back as he stands up. He reaches out with his hand and smiles infectiously. Romano rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, trying to hide his own smile.

xxx

Gasp. Long, low groan.

"Fuck. Harder, bastard."

"Unf. So pushy, I swear."

Surprised keen. Wet, slapping sounds. Skin hitting skin. Muffled moan.

"_Dios_, America, guh."

"You're so hot, god, so tight."

Desperate whine. Tongues entangling together.

"Come on, bastard. Fuck me like you mean it."

"Shut up."

Pace speeding up. Thrusts getting harder, faster, louder.

"Oh god, fuck, shit, there."

"Ubghsdhk."

Choked off cry. Gasp. Thighs clenching, fingers scratching down hard backs.

"Romano, god, ungh."

"Guuuh."

Pull out. Groan. Liquid seeping out. Contented sigh. Quiet.

"Mmm."

"Hmm?"

Quiet laughter. Humming.

"So good. That was awesome."

"Mhmm. Shut up. Get a fucking towel and wipe me off, bastard. _Dios_, I'm sore."

Padded footsteps, muffled humming. Water running.

"Hey, here."

"Thanks."

Wet cloth sliding against sensitive muscles, soft kisses down a chest.

"Mhmm, sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah. Come here."

"Ooh, we get to cuddle? Didn't see you as the type."

"Shut up. I'm in post-coital bliss. Don't ruin it. Now come here, bastard, or I will hit you."

Soft laughter. Half-annoyed grumbles. Bed shifting slightly.

"Yeah. Good night."

"Night."

xxx

"Are we going to pick up Romano?" France laughs as the two flank him. He really likes being in the middle whenever they walked. It's like he's a pimp and his two best amis are his, well, goons or whatever.

"_Sí! Mi Lovinito_ will expect it!" Spain chirps ecstatically, a huge smile splitting his face as they walk through the halls of the hotel. He couldn't wait to see Lovino!

"It's so unawesome that you still haven't told him, Toni." Prussia grumbles. Gilbird chirps in disapproval.

Spain's smile falls. "I know, I know. But Lovi's never shown any interest in men, much less me." He says morosely.

Francis frowns at that. "Is it because _mon petit Romano_ is Catholic?"

Prussia scoffs. "Romano? Please. He's been a nation far longer than he was Catholic." He blinks, and then laughs loudly. "I think. The awesome me doesn't even know."

Spain sighed. "Ay! I am Catholic too if you have not forgotten, _amigos_, but love is love!"

"And besides, you can get married in Madrid, the awesome me thinks." Prussia smirked. Gilbird chirps in agreement from its perch on Prussia's head and Spain beams at it even though he has no idea what exactly he just said.

Spain laughs. "¡_Sí_! I will tell _mi Lovinito_ as soon as possible!"

The three of them stop in front of Romano's door, the 432 shiny in its silver glory. It looks just like any other hotel door, but it's not. It's _the_ door. Esta es la puerta.

Spain takes in a deep breath and presses on the buzzer. It rings loudly and Spain bites his lip. There was silence inside the room before a loud curse pierces the air.

"Oh shit!"

And it definitely was not Romano.

Spain, France and Prussia exchange confused looks.

"¡Hola, Lovino! Are you ready? We have a meeting!" Spain calls out, pushing down the insecurities that bubble up at the sound of another man.

"Just a minute, bastard!" Romano yells, his tone bordering on panic. Spain frowns.

"_Tomatito_? Are you okay?" Spain asks uncertainly. The noises of a scuffle and hushed whispers reach them and Spain's frown deepens. A door slams shut.

"_Sì_!"

The door in front of them opens to reveal a harried-looking Romano. He scowls at the three of them.

"Can't you fucking wait? Let's go bastards." Romano grumbles. Spain swallows. Damn, Romano was so beautiful.

"Lovi?" He murmurs, licking his dry lips. He was going to do it. He could. He _would._

Romano frowns at him. "What?"

France and Prussia blink at him, similar looks of amusement on their faces. France winks and nods enthusiastically.

"Err. Nothing, mi amigo, it's okay." Spain says slowly. France's face falls and he gives him a scandalized look that borders on disapproval. Damn it. He couldn't do it.

"Okay..." Romano says just as slow, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance and confusion. Spain sighs inwardly. _Dios_ _mio_, he was an idiot.

Prussia sighs. "Well, the awesome me kind of needs to go to the bathroom, so yeah."

He pushes past Romano and into the hotel room as he heads towards the bathroom.

Romano froze, "No, fucking bastard, don't open the-"

"America?" Prussia yells.

"–door..." Romano says feebly. Spain and France stare at him with wide eyes and Romano winces.

America exits the bathroom with a sheepish expression on his face.

"France. Spain. Prussia." He greets, rubbing the back of his head as he smiles at the three of them.

"_L'Amerique_." France replies, an amused tilt to his tone that somehow said that he knew something the others didn't. America gives him a look and then smiles at them.

"_Señor America._" Spain says in a small voice as he looks at Romano and then America. There's an odd expression on his face as he looks down at his shoes.

Prussia coughs. "So, uh, I'm assuming you had a wild night? Not as awesome as mine though." He smiles feebly at his joke as he glances at Spain worriedly. There's a lost look on his face as he stares at the floor.

America and Romano flush. America winces and turns to Romano with an apologetic expression on his face.

"Sorry, Romano. I should have woken you up." He says softly, biting the inside of his cheek. He rubs the back of his head and smiles charmingly at Romano.  
Romano huffs and pokes America's chest. "Yeah, yeah. Just leave, _bastardo_."

America laughs and then glances at Spain. He hesitates before he leans in towards Romano and murmurs something into his ear. Romano stiffens and he lets out a long sigh as he shakes his head.

America bites his lip and nods, before he walks away. As he brushes past Spain, the Spaniard flinches visibly. Romano stares at him but Spain resolutely avoids his gaze.  
The four of them are quiet as they stare at the open door.

"So, Romano." Prussia drawls. Romano tears his gaze away from the door to glare at Prussia.

"You and America, huh?"

Roano scowls and strides past the three of them. Spain stares at his back, expression dark and upset.

"Think of it this way, _mon ami_! At least we know that _mon petit Romano'_s interested in men too!" France says helpfully.

"But that's _Estado Uñidos_!" Spain murmurs in distress. "Everyone wants _Señor America!"_

"But America's already with England." Prussia pipes up. "Did anyone other than me remember that what he did is called cheating? Anyone? No one?"

France chuckles lowly. A little sad, a little amused, and a little knowing. "I think _Angleterre_ is aware of _Amerique'_s infidelity."

"Then why are they still together if America can't keep it in his pants?" Prussia asks curiously.

Spain sighs and shakes his head as he brushes past the two of them to the door. France and Prussia watch him and sigh sadly.

"It's simple, really." France says wistfully, an odd expression on his face. Prussia frowns and gives him a questioning look.

"It's because he's in love."

xxx

"Lovi?" Spain says uncertainly. Romano turns to him and scowls.

"What, bastard?" He grumbles. Spain bites the inside of his cheek and looks away when the elevators pulls open. Romano's gaze softens and the two of them walk into the empty elevator.

"What, bastard?" He repeats once they're inside, softer this time but just as annoyed.

"You slept with _Señor America_?" Spain asked, gaze still set on the buttons of the elevator. Romano blinks.

"_Sì_..." He replies quietly, fear lacing his tone. "Is that a problem, Antonio?"

Spain bites his lip. "_Sí_."

Romano's mouth falls open and he gapes at Spain in surprise. "What? Why?"

Spain clenches his fists, and Romano swallow nervously as Spain seemed to tremble. "Lovi... _Señor America_? Why him?"

Romano stares at the Spaniard. "Because he offered." He says bluntly. Spain flinches.

"If... If I offered, would you have–"

"No."  
Spain's breath hitches and he stares at the buttons, his eyes wide. He was going to faint, he felt so light-headed. Romano didn't want him. He wasn't good enough.

"All America offered was sex." Romano murmurs. He looks away from Spain and the Spaniard swallowed nervously.

"And...?" He whispers.

"I don't want that from you, bastard." Romano says meaningfully. Spain releases a long breath and he presses the emergency stop button. Romano's mouth falls open.

"_Idiota_! Why did you do that?" He yells aghast. He reaches towards the button, and Spain grabs his hand. He shakes his head stubbornly. If Romano meant what he thought he meant then, then... Spain had to take the chance.

"We need to talk, Lovino." He says quietly and turns to Romano. Romano looks away and stares at the doors.

"Lovi." He murmurs. "Look at me, _por favor_."

Romano turn to him and their eyes meet. They stare at each other and Romano's face reddens at the intensity of Spain's gaze.

"_Te amo_." Spain says clearly. Romano freezes, his eyes widening. His lips part and Spain couldn't stop now, he couldn't.

"I want you, I love you." He continues, breaths coming in sharp and harsh. Romano had to know, had to see how much he loved him. He had to keep going. He needs to keep going.

"I need you, Lovi. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours." He gasps out, green eyes dark. Romano stares at him, and they were both shaking and Spain was so goddamned scared.

"_Te amo_, Lovino." He finishes quietly.

Romano lets out a choked breath and squeezes his eyes shut. "Antonio, please, don't say things like that."

"Why not?" Spain asks desperately, face screwing up.

"Because it's not true! Don't lie to me, _España_!" Romano yells. Spain gapes at him.

"Lovi, I do, I love you so much, _te amo, te amo, te amo! Por favor_, Lovi, give me a chance!" He pleads. Romano looks away, cheeks heating up.

"Don't." Romano grits out. Spain flinches. He gives Romano a desperate look and Romano turns to him, gaze heated.

"I've... I've loved you for so long, _bastardo_. You've never looked at me once." Romano says quietly. He opens his mouth to say more.

"I have, Lovino!" Spain cuts in. He stares at Romano, a look in his eyes that makes Romano's heart beat faster.

"I've always looked at you." Spain murmurs. Romano swallows and he opens his mouth. Spain shakes his head and Romano closes his mouth against the words that struggle to deny.

"You've just never noticed." Spain's breath hitches as he gives Romano a beseeching gaze.

The two of them stare at each other, tension thick in the air. Romano makes a strangled sound and moves towards Spain at the same time Spain moves towards him.  
They kiss and Spain sighs against Romano's lips. He smiles and Romano murmurs something unintelligible. Spain hums and opens his mouth slightly. Romano's tongue slips in and Spain makes a low sound in his throat as he leans in closer towards Romano. They share sweet, gentle kisses and Spain laughs softly into Romano's mouth. Romano makes an annoyed sound and pulls away, back pressing against the emergency stop button.

The elevator jolts and Spain giggles. Romano gives him a look, and Spain can't help but grin at the fond annoyance in Romano's gaze.

"_Mi dispacie_." Romano mutters, a light flush on his cheeks. Spain blinks and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"For what, _mi querido_?" He asks in confusion. The flush on Romano's cheeks deepens at the endearment.

"We should have done this sooner." He grumbles as he purposely ignores the question, curl bobbing as he shifts. Spain's gaze flies to that curl and he smiles mischievously. He reaches up and just as he's about to pull on the curl, the doors ding open. He pouts and drops his hand to his side. It's worth it tough when Romano reaches for his hand and links their fingers together.

He grins and Romano glares at him. "Fucking bastard. My fingers are cold, that's all."

Spain nods acceptingly and smiles brilliantly at Romano as they walk towards the meeting room. He tries not to laugh as his _tomatito_ blushes and looks away.

As they walk into the meeting room, Spain catches America's gaze. America–who is not in his respective seat beside the United Kingdom, Spain notes– looks at their joined hands and blinks. His eyes widen in realization and he grins knowingly as he meets Spain's eyes again. He winks at Spain and mouths a "So cute!" and something that looks like "Finally!".

Spain just sticks his tongue out at him.

xxx

Headcanon! It's either you're really close to someone by calling them their human names, or you're being really disrespectful and not acknowledging them as nations.  
Obvs, since Al and Arthur are together, they refer to each other as such. So does Feli and Lovi, BTT, Antonio and Lovi and etc.

Btw, non-English is based on prior minimal knowledge, lol. I left the easy translations alone, like the si, and the oui, and etc.

Fratellino (Italian)- little brother

Esta es la puerto (Spanish)- This is the door (this is the first phrase my friend learned in Spanish lol)

Por favor (Spanish) - Please

Te amo (Spanish, Italian, etc) - I love you

Mi dispacie (Italian) - I'm sorry

Mi querido (Spanish) - my dear

Edit: 7/25/12 Changed wording, spelling, grammar, etc.


	2. mentioned USCAN, PruCan, USUK, Spamano

ii. Canada: Matthew Williams (or, wherein nothing actually happens.)

Chock full with PruCan, jealously and lurve. Also, some Spamano, USUK, implied CanUS. Longest chapter I've ever written for anything, lol! Unless you count oneshots, then no. Holy fuck, 5000+ words, omg.

WARNING: NON-GRAPHIC MENTIONS OF PAST INCEST.

xxx

"I love you." America said seriously, blue eyes dark. England sighs and nods acceptingly.

"I know." Nothing more, nothing less. Just an acknowledgment.

America looks away, swinging his legs against the fence. He bites his lip thoughtfully and England watches him out of the corner of his eyes. The two of them are quiet, and then England smiles wryly.

"So. Romano?" England asks. America glances at him and then nods.

"Spain and him weren't together yet, I swear." America says honestly, eyes wide. England nods, his green eyes fixed on the grass and the flowers that surrounded the fence. He shifted slightly, trying to get a position where it didn't feel like he was falling.

"I'm aware. Did you... How was it?" He asked uncomfortably. America stares at him in disbelief and his lips twitch in amusement.

"I thought of you, if it's any conciliation." America replied cheekily. England smirks at the pretty blue flowers and America smiles at him fondly.

The smirk falls though and there's a different look in England's eyes as his gaze leaves the flowers and turns to America.

"Why do we keep doing this, Alfred?" He asks, a sad smile playing on his lips. America swallows and looks away from England's beseeching gaze. It's him this time that's staring at the abundance of flowers surrounding his country home.

"You have to elaborate, dude." He says quietly. England stares at him and tilts his head slightly.

"This." He said simply, gesturing at the both of them. America winced.

"I... Because I love you. And you love me." He said feebly. England gave him an unreadable look. He sighs and pushes himself off the fence they were sitting on, feet hitting the soft dirt almost inaudibly.

"Exactly." He says softly, and America isn't sure if he imagined it.

He meets America's eyes then, and there's something in them that makes America's breath hitch.

"My flight is in an hour. I shall be returning to England." He says flatly. America bites his lip and nods.

"Yeah... See you, Arthur." He replies softly. England nods and starts to walk away. Away from broken promises, away from everything.

Away from Alfred.

xxx

"Mattie?" America whispered into his phone.

"Al, what the heck?" Canada groggily answered. "Are you in England? Because there's a considerable time difference between here and there, you know."

"No..." America replied sheepishly. "Sorry." He let out a long sigh and huffed.

"Yeah, that was pretty stupid, right? I should just go." He said quietly, biting his lip as his stared at the door in front of him.

"What? No, Al, you already woke me up. What's wrong?" Canada said tiredly and America could hear sheets rustling over the phone.

"I'm lonely." He confided softly. Canada was silent at that, before he sighed.

"Okay. Want me stay up on the phone with you?" He offered. America smiled. His little brother was too generous sometimes.

"Well, about that..." He trailed off, and grinned. He pressed on the doorbell.

Canada groaned. "Are you outside? Really, eh?"

America laughed. "Uh-huh. I was just going to sneak in but your spare keys are mysteriously missing."

Canada sighed. "They're with Gilbert. I'm coming down." And with that, Canada hangs up. America whistles impatiently and taps his foot as he waits for the door in front of him to open.

When it does open, it reveals a disgruntled Canada with his polar bear pressed to his chest. America smiles at him sheepishly and rubs the back of his head as he laughs slightly.

"Morning, dude." He greets. Canada gives him a look and opens the door further. America slips in gracefully and regards his surroundings in surprise.

"Everything's different." He muses. Canada smiles at that and locks the door behind him. "Not all of it is different." He disagrees softly.

And it's true. The new couch is littered with the fancy cushions France gave decades ago and the coffee table is the very same one that they had spent hours browsing through IKEA to find. Sweden was pretty pissed, if he remembered correctly.

He looks around him and he can see pictures and paintings decades and centuries old. He smiles slightly. He can see their childhood–if nations could even have a childhood–and them now if he looked hard enough.

"And to think people would assume _I_ was the sentimentalist." America finally says. Canada laughs mildly.

"_Oui_, you are. To the things that matter, eh?" He says and America can't help but smile.

"To the things that matter." He agrees quietly.

xxx

The two of them end up in the same bed together, unsurprisingly enough. America stares at the darkness around him and struggles to remember how to breathe.

When he feels bad, he watches scary horror movies to get his mind off what's happening. Unfortunately, scary horror movies are not something you should watch before dropping in on your brother. Especially if said brother does not sleep with a night light. And it's not like he himself sleeps with a night light because that was totally uncool and unheroic and who does that anyway? Not him, obviously, because he was a hero and he was cool and awesome and–okay fine, he does sleep with a night light.

Something brushes against his arm and America shrieks. He clings to his previously sleeping brother and hugs him tightly.

"Eh? Alfred!" Canada groans, pushing America away from him. America tightens his grip on his brother, breathing becoming harsher as his blurry eyes flick around the room in a panic.

"There's something there." He hisses. Canada sighed and patted his head slightly. He maneuvered the two of them around for a while which was considerably much more difficult than it should have been due to America absolutely refusing to let go of Canada's waist. Pretty soon they were face to face as they lied on their sides, arms locked around each other's.

Canada grumbles something incoherent and shifts slightly. America whimpers and drops his head on his brother's shoulder, hiding away from the darkness and into the warmness of Canada.

"You're an idiot." Canada sighs. America laughs hysterically and Canada stroked his back comfortingly.

"Just like old times, huh?" America said weakly. Canada scoffs.

"Depends, really. Are you talking about the times we accidentally had sex, or the times that we didn't?" He says sarcastically. America pouts. Canada was never as nice in the wee hours of the morning. So he decides to tell Canada this.

"You're mean." He says seriously.

Canada actually giggles at that as he entangles their legs. America huffs and pulls his upper leg away before hooking it around Canada's waist. Canada grunts and he pushes America's leg off before trying to put his own leg on top.

"My house, Al." Canada said warningly. America whines at that and turns his head a bit to nip at Canada's neck spitefully. He does however, let Canada entangle their legs again-with Canada's on top obviously.

"But you're heavy." He complains against Canada's neck. Canada slaps his arm, but well, his brother wasn't that strong, so America wasn't that bothered.

"So are you." Canada grumbled. America scowled and dug his knee in the thigh nearest to him. Canada yelped and locked his legs around America's in a tight grip.

America struggled to shift Canada's legs away from him without taking his arms away from Canada's waist and Canada rolled his eyes. He struggled back and pretty soon, they were pushing at each other and trying to scrabble on top and away from knees and elbows.

America eventually accidentally elbows Canada in the gut as he struggles to get free of Canada's grasp on his hair. Canada keels and releases the grip he had on dark-blonde strands as he lowers his hands defensively. America takes that chance to roll them over so that he was straddling his brother.

He grinned down victoriously and winked. Canada blinks up at him and scowls before he slaps him. America reeled and gasped indignantly as he clutches his cheek. Canada laughs brightly and flips the still shocked American so that he's on top. He gives America a peace sign and smiles slightly at his brother.

America huffs and rolls his eyes before he relaxes against the pillows.

"So." He said conversationally. Canada raises an eyebrow at him from his position.

"So...?" Canada asks slowly.

"Is this one of those times where we accidentally have sex? Because I kind of have a boner right now." America says cheerfully. Canada huffs and rolls his eyes. He drops to his side beside America and slings an arm around his brother's stomach.

"I know. I felt it, stupid. The answer depends, eh." Canada mumbled tiredly into America's forearm.

"On what?" America sighed, spreading his legs slightly to relieve the ache.

"You and England." Canada said carefully as he draws his arm back so that his hand is on America's stomach. He splayed his fingers against it and America's muscles tensed reflexively.

America flinches. He bites his lip and the two of them are silent.

"It's... I don't even know, Mattie. We've already talked about me sleeping around before and we've been fine, but lately it's like he's just been angry." America confessed quietly.

"Maybe he's tired of it." Canada suggested helpfully. America sighed and shifted his body slightly so that it curled a bit towards Canada's.

"He didn't say anything. Aside from not sleeping with people who're already in relationships, that is." America grumbled.

Canada huffed. "Maybe he's embarrassed. Maybe he's expecting you to realize it on your own. I don't know. I'm not the one in love with him."

"Maybe I should stop?" America suggested warily. The two of them are quiet at that. At the same time, they both started giggling.

"You'll get bored, Al." Canada laughed. America huffed, and rolled his eyes.

"It's not like we're together for the sex–which is great, just so you know–We're together because we love each other!" America argued defensively. Canada sighed loudly before he poked America's stomach.

"Exactly, idiot." Canada grumbled. "If you love him, then keep it in your pants, _putain_."

America blinked in confusion at that before he looked down at Canada aghast. "Dude, did you just call me a whore?" He asked in disbelief. His brother stared at him and smiled softly. He dropped his head on America's chest and laughed in agreement.

America made a disgusted noise and huffed. He grumbled incoherently, trying, to no avail, to cross his arms over his chest. Canada's head was kind of in the way.

Canada laughed again. His brother was not helping. At all. He slapped the back of Canada's head childishly, pouting a little.

"Bitch." He grunted.

"Jerk." Canada grumbled.

They giggled quietly, shifting around a bit so that they cuddled closer towards each other, America's fear forgotten.

"You really should consider it, though." Canada murmured tiredly. America swallowed, and he nodded slightly against his brother's hair.

Eventually, they fell into a deep sleep, bodies curled together.

xxx

"Remember when we destroyed that building?" Gilbird chirped cheerfully from his perch on Prussia's head. Prussia grinned in reply, laughing loudly as the image came to mind. He gazed at the buildings around him. America's buildings. Hmm. Needed some work, he supposed.

"I know! Super awesome, right? Well, obviously, since we were there." Prussia laughed. Spain quirked an eyebrow at that and smiled.

"Not all of us speak bird, Gil." He said cheerfully. Romano huffed and reached out to Spain's hand, linking their fingers together. Spain's smile widened at that and Prussia rolled his eyes at the brightness in Antonio's eyes. "As much as I hate agreeing with this bastard, _s__ì_."

Prussia rolled his eyes, "Dude, I didn't think that the Awesome Me would be an unawesome third wheel, but apparently, I am." He stared pointedly at their hands.

"If Francis was here, then maybe that wouldn't be a problem." Gilbird mused thoughtfully. Prussia sighed, and Spain and Romano stared at Gilbird uncomprehendingly. Yes, if France was here. Unfortunately, France had gone back to, well, France a few hours after the World Meeting and left Prussia here. Alone. With two _idioten _and their unawesome PDA.

"You know what? All I hear is 'Cheep cheep, cheepity-cheep'". Romano said flatly. Spain laughed at that and tightened his grip on Romano's hand to pull him in even closer to his side.

"Chigi! Not in public, _bastardo_!" Romano squealed. Spain just giggled and ducked his head to kiss Romano's cheek affectionately.

"Oh, _querido_, you are so funny!" Spain said cheerfully. Romano scowled and Prussia rolled his eyes at the unawesome display of affection. It was only awesome if he was involved, and seeing as Spain was a possessive bitch when it came to things like this, that wasn't likely. Maybe they should have persuaded Francis to come with them. But he was busy, apparently, with matters of l'amour.

Spain grinned and glomped Romano with a loud, "_Te quiero mucho_, Lovi!"

Romano screeched and tried to push Spain away, but Spain held on stubbornly, a huge smile on his face.

"Chigi." Romano grumbled defeatedly as he relaxed against Spain's grip. Spain nuzzled his neck and kissed it loudly, causing Romano's face to heat up in embarrassment.

Prussia stared.

"You know what, I'm going to call Mat–Canada so you can two can get a room." Prussia said slowly as he backed away from the couple. He did not know who they were. At all. They were not his friends. He was way too awesome for this. You know who was his friend? Canada. Yeah.

"Who?" Spain and Romano simultaneously asked as they stared at him in confusion. Prussia blinked at them and scowled slightly.

"Canada. You know, America's brother. French hair, purple eyes? Pretty cute?" Prussia said slowly as he rolled his eyes.

Spain and Romano share a disbelieving look, as their lips quirked in amusement. Prussia glared and huffed before he turned away.

"_S__í__, s__í__,_ whatever you said, Gil." Spain said, obviously not knowing who the hell Prussia was talking to. He kissed Romano sweetly and Romano flushed as he pushed Spain away again. He Scowled at Spain and Spain smiled back undisturbed.

_Ja_, Scowled with a capital S. It was just that scary. And unawesome.

Prussia speed-dialed Canada and pressed the speaker button with a roll of his eyes. It's not like he put Canada on speed dial because they were so close, of course not. Canada was just nice to talk to, that's all. He was an awesome guy, really.

"Hello?"

America, however, was not.

"America?" He awesomely sputtered in disbelief. Spain froze at that and Romano blinked at Prussia curiously over Spain's shoulder.

"Mhmm?" America hummed sleepily.

"Alfred?" Romano blurted out as he tip-toed to look at Prussia. Prussia glanced at the two just as Spain gave Romano a look. Romano frowned at him and Spain pouted.

"Lovino?" America questioned, and Prussia could practically see his eyebrows raise in surprise. There was sounds of sheets shuffling and Prussia blinked at the familiarity of the annoyed groan that traveled through the phone. That was definitely Matthew. Spain scowled and gave Romano another look. Romano ignored him, and Spain's eyes darkened.

"Um. _Ja_, that was Romano. Why are you answering Matthew's phone?" Prussia replied to America.

"I slept with him, why?" America drawled sleepily. Prussia froze, eyes wide. Slept with him? "Do you know what time it is?" America grumbled, but honestly? Prussia wasn't really listening.

"Prussia? Dude, still there?" America murmured, yawning slightly.

"Yeah." He said faintly. America hummed in reply. "Okay, man. I'll just tell Mattie you called when he wakes up. It's four in the morning, dude."

"Sure." Prussia replied quietly. Canada slept with America? Weren't they brothers?

"Bye, Prussia." America muttered. He paused, and then called out louder, "Bye, Lovino!"

Romano smiled wryly at that and ignores the ugly expression on Spain's face.

"Bye." The two of them chorused. America hangs up and Spain turns on Romano. Prussia ignores them and stares at his phone. Canada and America?

"Lovi!" He cried indignantly. Romano scowled at him, "What, _bastardo_?"

"Why did _Se__ñ__or America_ call you Lovino?" Spain whined, and threw his arms around Romano's neck. Romano flushed and tried to push him away feebly.

"It's nothing, Anton–"

"¡_Qu__é__ va_!" Spain butt in, frowning slightly. Romano scowled and then looked away.

"We're friends, I guess. He's an okay guy." Romano grumbled defeatedly.

"Okay enough to have sex with." Prussia muttered bitterly. Spain flinched and Romano's eyes narrowed.

"_You'd_ know." Prussia laughed as he looked up and gave Romano a dirty look.

"_S__ì_." Romano said harshly. Spain's jaw clenched and Romano crossed his arms in annoyance as he outright glared at Prussia.

"You're just jealous, no?" Romano continued as he sneered at Prussia. Prussia snarled at that and moved forward threateningly. Spain moved instinctively and blocked Romano. Romano glared at Spain but Spain didn't even look at him, his fierce green gaze locked on red. Spain scowled and shook his head at Prussia. He seemed to have forgotten his anger and jealousy over America calling Lovino by his human name.

Prussia could hit him. He knew he could. But he wouldn't.

Prussia shook his head and stepped back. "_Ja._ And?" He gritted out. Spain looked at him sadly. His next words froze Prussia.

"Make a move, _amigo_."

xxx

Prussia stared at his feet and scowled as he kicked a pebble out of his way. His grip tightened on his phone and he sighed slightly. This was so unawesome. The Awesome Prussia did not sulk. And neither did he pine after fucking Canadians and want to slam the heads of their fucking American brothers who can't keep it in their _Gott verdammt_ pants into a table.

_Mein Gott_, he was an idiot. Agh.

This was so unawesome.

xxx

"You're finally awake," America chuckled as he looked up from the Canadian newspapers to see Canada entering the dining room sleepily. "I was waiting for you!"

"Mhmm." Canada grunted in reply as he dragged himself over to the coffeemaker. America laughed and shook his head fondly as he put the newspaper down and placed his chin on his hand to watch Canada gradually inserting himself back into society.

"By the way, Prussia called. He was with Roma. And Spain too, I think?" America said conversationally as he tilted his head in amusement. Canada paused in his coffee-making at that and blinked at America blearily as he rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses.

"Mhmm?" He asked curiously. America took that as a, "Why'd he call? What did he say?" America was pretty skilled at deciphering Canada-in-the-morning speak by now. He swayed his legs underneath Canada's table and hummed thoughtfully.

"Not much when he realized it was me. Asked me why I was answering your phone." America said nonchalantly.

"Uh-mhmm?" Canada prodded, as he took his coffee mug and stumbled to the chair in front of America groggily.

"Told him I slept with you, s'all." America stated easily and raised an eyebrow as Canada sputtered out the coffee.

"Slept with me?" He spluttered. America blinked at him and grinned. "Oh, wow, you're speaking. Yeah, why? I'm not allowed to tell people I slept over?"

"Not like that!" Canada said indignantly. America frowned. "Why not? What's wrong with what I said?"

"He'll think we had sex!" Canada squeaked and flushed in embarrassment. America opened his mouth and then closed it thoughtfully. He hummed, and screwed up his eyebrows.

"Huh. It does sound like we had sex if I say it like that." America mused. Canada slapped a hand to his face and groaned through his fingers.

"I'm going to call Gil, you ass," Canada grumbled. America's lip quirked up as he regarded Canada.

"Why would he care?" America asked, trying to hide his smile at the distraught look on Canada's face.

Canada huffed. "He wouldn't. I just have to clear it up." He grumbled. America chuckled and nodded slightly. "If you say so."

xxx

His phone rang, snapping him out of his reverie. Prussia looked down at the screen and his jaw clenched when he saw the caller ID.

"Gil, hey." Canada said, and Prussia couldn't help the quirk of his lips at the sleepiness in his tone. But then it fell when he realized why exactly Canada was so sleepy.

"_Hej_." He said tonelessly. Canada was quiet, and Prussia frowned.

"You... Okay?" Canada said uncertainly. Prussia sighed and looked up at the sky briefly before he dragged his hand through his white hair.

"_Ja_. Peachy, really." Prussia replied.

"Sorry for not answering a while ago. I was still sleeping." Canada apologized, his voice odd.

"With America." Prussia couldn't help but say. He failed to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"I–Gil, it wasn't like that." Canada said defensively, a perplexed tone in his voice at the bitter tone Prussia used. Prussia scowled.

"And what was it like, huh?" Prussia bit out, eyes flashing as he glared at the ground viciously.

Canada let out a frustrated sigh. "Gil. You know how the Italian twins sleep in the same bed sometimes? So do Al and I. It doesn't mean anything, I swear."

Prussia was quiet at that and slowly, he unclenched his jaw. That was good. That was awesome, even.

"Okay, then." He said and Canada hummed in relief.

"I'll... Talk to you later then." Canada said uncertainly.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." Prussia replied quietly. But why did it matter? Why did he care so much whether or not Canada slept with someone else?

xxx

"You are such a liar." America remarked as Canada hung up. Canada smiled wryly at him and looked back down at his pancakes.

"I'm pretty sure the Italian twins accidentally sleep together too." He said innocently. America guffawed and leaned backwards on his chair as laughter shook his form. Canada rolled his eyes and brought a strip of bacon to his mouth as he tried to hide a smile.

"That was way funnier than it should've been." America sighed contentedly as he grinned at Canada goofily.

Canada scoffed and chewed easily. "Get out of my house, idiot."

America gave Canada a hurt look and pouted as he pushed back his chair. "Fine, fine, little bro. Kick me out after I confessed how lonely I was. I spilled my heart and soul to you, dude!"

Canada stared at America. "Overdramatic, much?" He said flatly. America huffed, and rolled his eyes before heading towards the door.

"Whatever." He grumbled, hiding a smile as he left Canada alone to eat his breakfast.

xxx

Prussia had a dilemma. A particularly unawesome dilemma.

And it sucked.

He scowled and stared at Canada's door. Did it even matter if Canada did sleep with America? Why would he care? They were friends, yes, but that was all. Sure, friends cared if other friends did something stupid–and by do something stupid, he means doing America–but Canada was a grown ass man–country, whatever.

He wasn't involved in Canada's life. He wasn't affected by who Canada did or did not sleep with. _Mein Gott_, what was wrong with him?

xxx

"Gil?" Canada called out uncertainly to the back of the man in front of him. Prussia stiffened as his voice reached him and turned slowly to meet Canada's gaze.

"Matthew." He greeted, voice carefully even. Canada frowned at that and bit his lip nervously as he regarded Prussia.

"Are you okay?" Canada asked carefully. Prussia blinked at that and laughed lowly, a wry smile on his lips as he nodded.

"_Ja, ja. _Don't worry your pretty little head off about it." Prussia said in amusement. Canada flushed a dark red at that and glared.

"What makes me not believe you?" Canada mused snarkily. Prussia smirked and shrugged easily. "Don't know. Can't you trust this angelic face?" Prussia cooed, batting his eyelashes playfully at Canada.

Canada laughed softly and looked down, smiling slightly at his feet as he shuffled nervously.

Prussia's gaze softened and they were quiet, looking anywhere but at each other. The silence was stifling and it was just so… _awkward. _This wasn't them. This wasn't how they worked, how they talked.

Finally, Canada broke the silence. "But..." He cut himself off and shook his head, biting his lip nervously. Prussia's lip twitched, "But?" Canada squeezed his eyes shut and dragged his hand down his face in a frustrated motion. He made a low noise in his throat and looked up, purple eyes dark.

"Why were you so _angry?_" He asked exasperatedly. Prussia stared at Canada and smirked slightly before looking away. Why _was _he angry?

He stared at the cluster of buildings around them, his smirk slipping into a scowl. America's buildings. This was America's land. That idiot America had so much cut out for him, and he was throwing it all away for one-night stands and fucking dragging everyone in on it.

But how was that related to his anger? Why did America slutting himself up and sleeping with random nations make him so angry?

Because of Canada.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he stared dumbfounded at the sign proclaiming free coffee every 6-7 am in the morning. He was angry because of _Canada_.

He was angry because America _could_ have slept with Canada if he wanted to or had the chance to, because that _Gott verdamnt_ fucker got everything he wanted. He was angry because _he _wanted Canada and he _didn't _have that chance to be with Canada. Lovely, lovely Canada, with his sweet syrupy pancakes and even sweeter smiles. Lovely Matthew, who wasn't his. But he couldn't say that to him.

"America." Prussia chose to say instead, his voice miraculously even. There. General enough. Not too revealing, _ja?_

Canada furrowed his eyebrows at that. "America? Alfred? Gil, I told you that we didn't sleep together." He said in confusion, giving an odd look at the nation in front of him. Prussia blinked and nodded hastily in response. "Yes." He said simply.

"It's just," Prussia continued. "It's really goddamn annoying to hear who he cheated on England with next, that's all."

Canada frowns at him disapprovingly and Prussia shrugs, clearly not guilty over his words. "Why? Are you jealous?" He asked, a tone to his voice that makes Prussia stiffen in response. Jealous? Does he know?

Canada clenches his jaw and nods acceptingly even though Prussia didn't say anything. "I guess it's true then, eh? Everyone wants America." He laughs softly, bitterly, and Prussia stares at him aghast.

"What?" He asked, dumbfounded at what exactly Canada was implying. He was jealous _of _America, not jealous _over_ him. What the fuck?

Canada smiles, fake and sickly sweet before he looks away. "You like America, _oui_?" It's not even a question. Canada states it as if it was fact. As if it was true.

"You are mental." Prussia says flatly. Canada glares at him and Prussia rolls his eyes. He scoffs slightly as he kicks the pavement.

"I'm jealous _of_ him, Canada." He says seriously. He looks up from his meet to meet Canada's gaze, red eyes dark. "Do you want to know why?" He asked quietly. Canada stares at him and then nods slowly, reluctantly, fearfully.

"Because of you."

Canada's eyes widen and Prussia stares at him, gauging, _analyzing_ his reaction.

"I..." Canada spluttered, flushing a bright red. Prussia's jaw clenches. If Canada rejected him that'd be okay, he'd be okay, he'd get over it. He could and he would. Canada wasn't that awesome. It's not like Canada's soft purple eyes made his heart beat faster or his sweet smile make his breath hitch. It didn't. It _didn't._

_Mein Gott, _who was he kidding? Canada _did_. Canada made his heart clench with want, and his lips to curve upwards. Canada made him happy and made him _feel_. Canada made the pain go away, if only for a while and Prussia–Prussia was _in love_ with him.

"Eh?" Canada squeaked. Prussia shut his eyes and dragged a tired hand over his face, groaning slightly.

"What are you trying to say, Gilbert?" Canada asked, his eyes wide and–can Gilbert believe it?–hope. Gilbert clenched his jaw and looked away.

"That you're the awesomest person I've ever known. Awesomer than me." Prussia says, his tone light and even, as if he isn't baring his soul to the man–_nation_ in front of him. His features are void of any emotion and it seems as if he's stating a simple fact, as if everyone knows.

But Canada knows how much that one sentence means.

He flushes and looks down at his shoes. "I... You're the awesomest person I've ever known too, Gil." He said quietly.

Prussia knows how much that one sentence means too.

They smile at each other and Prussia realizes that they don't have to say anything else. They know what the other person means.

They know they love each other.

xxx

I don't know how to write Canada here. At all. I was so confused with him most of the time. Gah. He ended up being closer to 2P Canada than 1P. :( Especially in the mid parts. And this isn't even a 2P fic, lol.

Um. Anyway. I've been revisiting old fandoms such as Naruto–my first, lol–and I've been pretty distracted, so I'm sorry.

Oui (french): Yes

Sì (italian)/Sí (spanish): Yes. (I know you know, but I just wanted to show there's a difference. Apparently. Haha. Idk about the accents for the others.)

Bastardo (italian/spanish): Bastard

Querido (spanish): dear

Te quiero mucho (spanish): I love you very much

Qué va (spanish): "Yeah, right!" (slang. Literally means "What will!")

Amigo (spanish): Friend

Hej (german): Hey, hello, hi

Ja (german): yes

Gott verdammt (german): God damn (Idk if it should Fluch or Gott Verdammt.)

Mein Gott (german): My God

Finished: July 30 2012, 1:30 AM GMT+8

Posted: (Lol, there was a storm, so electricity was out and all) July 30 2012, 6:40 AM


	3. DenNor, DenUS

So, Scandinavia and the World comics have inspired me in learning more about the Scandinavians, and to some extent, the rest of the Nordic 5. Here is your DenMerica and DenNor. The dynamic between DenMerica is different from the usual America initiating and topping.

* * *

iii. Denmark: Matthias Jensen

"We can't keep doing this." Norway said flatly and Denmark gave him a confused look. "Doing what?" He asked innocently, and reached out to hold Norway's hand. He linked their fingers together and smiled fondly at the cold that his warm hand met. Norway was always cold even if they weren't in their respective countries. Denmark loved it, especially now since America was a such a warm country compared to Denmark.

Norway pulled his hand away and glared. "This." He said angrily as he did a weird hand thing to encompass the two of them. Denmark gave him an amused look and tilted his head as he gave Norway an odd look.

"Going on dates? Holding hands?" Denmark said, narrowing his eyes in confusion. He laughed slightly, "Lukas, elskede, that's what couples do." He knew Norway wasn't much for public displays of affection and he constantly shied away from him while they were on dates. Denmark was used to it, but it still annoyed him a times. He wanted the whole world to see that he had a claim to this gorgeous man.

"No, idiot, that's not what I meant." Norway replied, gritting his teeth in annoyance. Denmark's face became blank, fear and dawning comprehension barely visible in his gaze. If he didn't mean that then...

He swallowed nervously. "Then what do you mean?" He said, but really, Denmark already knew the answer. He's been dreading it for a long time now, and he really should have been more prepared for it. Well. Denmark's been preparing for this particular moment for a few weeks now, but he still felt as if he needed more time to be ready, to brace himself for the words that were going to come out of Norway's mouth,

"Us." Norway said flatly. Denmark nodded slowly. He knew it was coming. But nothing could have prepared him for the ache in his chest. All of those weeks of distancing himself as Norway seemed to slip away himself weren't doing anything to soften the blow.

"I think we should take a break." Norway said and Denmark sighed in resignation. A break. Indefinitely, of course. A break meant break up. That's not what Norway said, but that's what he meant. Denmark was used to trying to decipher what Norway really meant behind each blank statement. The thing is though, Denmark's been reading him wrong for a long time now. He couldn't figure out the exact moment where "Fuck off." stopped meaning "I love you." and instead simply meant "Fuck off."

"Ja, okay." He said and Norway looked down at his feet. He looked up through his hair and Denmark met his gaze steadily. Denmark was a viking. He had it in his blood, and the pride and ruthlessness ran through his veins. It was killing him to remain calm and not just stalk off right this moment but Denmark would bear through this. Not for Norway, but because he needed to know why.

"Hvorfor?" He said gently. Denmark knew that Norway's been thinking of this for a while now, but he didn't know why. They were perfect together. They were happy—or at least, well, Denmark was happy. And he was pretty sure that Norway was too. He watched as Norway's eyes flickered, a deep emotion within them that Denmark still couldn't get. He thought he'd have more time to figure it out.

Norway was silent and then he said carefully, "I don't love you anymore, Danmark."

Denmark stilled, and he could practically feel his heart breaking. He swallowed and kept his face carefully blank. He turned away from Norway, his features crumpling painfully. He took a deep breath and wiped a hand over his face as he tried to compose himself.

Love. What was love really? Denmark knew he still loved Norway. He never stopped loving him. So when did Norway stop loving him? He supposed that he should have realized it when Norway stopped saying his name with the same joy he said Norway's. Not the name that many knew him by, but 'Matthias'.

Norway used to say his name with such careful care and emotion that his features wouldn't show. But these past few days—weeks, even—His name just didn't hold that same meaning anymore. It became just like any other word. If every word was spoken with annoyance and thin patience, that is.

From loving 'Matthias' it became a cold 'Danmark'. He gave Norway a pained smile and Norway didn't return it. He just stared at Denmark with a careful gaze.

"Alright." Denmark said simply. He couldn't manage another word. If he tried to say anymore, he might just break down crying. He needed to get away. He couldn't stand in front of Norway and let his emotions slip as Norway just stared at him, mask even and blocking any emotion.

"I guess I'll see you later." Norway said slowly, and it was a question rather than a statement. He nodded finally and Denmark bit his lip. Would Denmark even _want_ to see him later? It was inevitable for them to see each other, their countries worked far too closely and so intertwined it was impossible to avoid Norway for too long.

"See you around, Norge." He said, and the word 'Norge' sounded so strange on his lips. Norway's gaze flashed and an unreadable emotion passed through his features. But it settled into a blank mask and once again, Norway was lost to him.

"See you around."

xxx

"I liiiiiiiike you." America giggled. Denmark grinned and laughed boisterously. It echoed around the bar and mingled with the multitude of sounds from the other nations' merry-making.

"That's aaaawesooome. I like you too, man." Denmark slurred, a huge smile splitting across his face.

"We should, liiiiike, I dunno, talk more, uh, often." America replied, waving his arms around to emphasize his point.

Denmark giggled and leaned closer towards America as he intended to bump their shoulders together. He misjudged though and ended up falling into America's lap. He twisted slowly so that he was looking up at America. They blinked at each other, alcohol muddling their cognition.

Finally, America burst out laughing. Denmark laughed too, and they stayed like that. Denmark on America's lap, huge happy grins of their faces and giggles bursting out of them every other second. They didn't notice Norway glancing over at them and scowling at his drink.

xxx

Denmark kissed him roughly, tongue slipping in America's open mouth. America groaned and dropped his hands to Denmark's ass, squeezing it gently.

"Norway—" America slurred, cut off by Denmark biting at his lower lip gently. He made a low noise in his throat and pulled Denmark closer towards him. Denmark grunted and pushed America up against the bathroom wall behind him. America gasped slightly as Denmark aligned their bodies and rolled his hips into America's.

"What was I saying?" America said dazedly, a lost look on his face. Denmark smirked slightly and shrugged. "Don't know, man."

America giggled and nodded, before he hiked his leg up around Denmark's waist to pull him in even closer. Denmark hissed and ducked his head down to America's neck.

He mouthed uselessly at America's neck, biting and sucking wetly. America moaned and leaned his head back to gaze up at the dim fluorescent lights. Denmark nipped at his clavicle, and America was pretty sure Denmark was leaving dark hickeys. He brought his hand up to toy with Denmark's hair, grinning drunkenly.

They were going to fuck in a bathroom of a bar. A bar filled with other nations just outside the door laughing, joking and getting drunk. America felt Denmark shove a thigh between his legs and he groaned, grinding down against it. He didn't really care right now where they fucked as long as they did.

"Denmark, please." He whispered and neither knew what he was begging for but Denmark gave it anyway. He bit down on the juncture of shoulder and neck, and America cried out softly at the burst of hot pain. Denmark's hands slipped down hurriedly to unbutton America's jeans and then his right hand met bare skin and America mewled desparetly. He froze, harsh breath fanning America's bite-marked shoulder and America thrust his hips into Denmark's hand as he groaned softly.

"Filthy, naughty slut." Denmark hissed and America shuddered, his grip tightening on Denmark's hair. Denmark grabbed his erection and tugged on it roughly and America gasped, hands sliding down to wrap around the taller man's neck.

"Did you come to me expecting to get laid?" Denmark said harshly as he nipped near America's mouth. America laughed breathlessly and then caught Denmark's lips, moaning slightly into the rough kiss as Denmark twisted his wrist spectacularly.

"Maybe I just always go commando." America said cheekily as they broke apart for air. Denmark growled and then dived back in, forcing his tongue into America's mouth. The younger nation groaned his hands traveled down Denmark's firm back to grip his ass. He moved his hands between them then unbuttoned Denmark's jeans, pushing that and his boxers down to his thighs quickly.

Denmark drew back and looked down before grasping America's waist and pulling their groins flush together. America grinned and then rolled his hips languidly, Denmark's eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of their cocks grinding against each other.

He dropped his head on America's shoulder and started moving America using his waist to glide their lower bodies together. Pretty soon, the pressure building in their stomachs hightened and rised, and Denmark let out a grunt as his balls tightened.

The door opened and neither of them even turned to look at who had entered. America threw his head back and let out a loud cry, body stiffening as he reached release. Denmark hissed and followed after him, his hands tightening on Alfred's slim waist. There'd be bruises there the next day, Denmark was sure of it. It would fade after a day, but they'd last long enough for America to see them in the morning once the alcohol had run its curse. The door closed again, and Denmark assumed whoever opened it had left in embarrassment to give them privacy.

They sighed contentedly and bathed in the after glow of sex for a moment before recovering. Denmark hummed and drew back, reaching down to pull up his boxers and his jeans. He tucked himself back in and buttoned back up quickly. America smiled at him lazily and Denmark laughed softly as he saw the white on Alfred's shirt. He looked down and sure enough, his shirt wasn't unaffected by their activity.

"Did you notice who came in?" America asked curiously, before running a hand through his hair then dropping it. He buttoned his own pants and Denmark shrugged. "Didn't really have the time to look. Too busy watching your eyes rolling back into their sockets." He smirked and America rolled his eyes.

"I'm easily affected in sex, I'm aware." America snorted and Denmark laughed. They fixed themselves and tried to make theirselves look more or less presentable. Denmark dabbed a tissue on his shirt to get rid of the evidence of their hook up and America did the same. They looked at their reflections on the bathroom mirror and smirked at each other.

Their mussed up hair and flushed cheeks did more than announce what they've been doing. They sniggered slightly and shrugged. It's not like they were ashamed. The just had sex look did wonders.

They left the bathroom and pretened not to notice the knowing smirks sent in their direction by the other people in the bar. Denmark glanced subtly at where Norway was sitting before he and America made their way to the bathroom. His heart sank when he saw Norway gone. What, was he expecting Norway to wait for him or something? Damn it, Denmark.

xxx

"Lukas!" Denmark yelled, grin bright and easy to the man on the other side of the hallway. Norway turned, gaze blank yet dangerous. Denmark froze, Norway's name stuck on his lips.

"Lu—Norge?" He said uncertainly, correcting himself immediately. He didnt have the right to call him Lukas anymore, what was he thinking? Stupid. Norway's eye twitches and he stalks over to Denmark. Denmark frowns and takes a step back instinctively.

"You slept with America." Norway calmly states, as if they were talking about snow or whatever. Denmark's frown slides off as he stares at Norway incredulously.

"I, uh, hvad?" He sputters. Norway glares at him and Denmark swallows nervously.

"You slept with America, ja?" He repeats as he tilts his head, curl bouncing with him. Denmark blinks and nods slowly in confusion.

"Ja." He gives Norway a bemused look. What the fuck was his problem? And it's not like it was a secret. Everyone in the bar saw America and Denmark leave the bathroom in a mussed state. It wouldn't be too hard to piece together the clues.

Norway sneers briefly before he looks away, features smoothing out into a familiar cold blankness. Denmark frowns at him, tilting his head at the Scandinavian.

"Hvorfor?" He asks, looking back to Denmark. There's a darkness in his gaze. Cold anger that Denmark hasn't seen since their viking days. He's suddenly fearful for his life.

"Uh, because, you know. He's hot, and I'm hot—Why are you asking me this, anyway?" Denmark grumbles, annoyance bubbling up.

Norway's eyes narrow. "America is with England. He's cheating on him with you, Danmark. Do you like how that feels?"

"Oh, so it's about America now, is it?" Denmark snaps. Norway blinks, and he looks shocked for a moment. It's gone the minute it comes though. Of course it is. Norway's too damn afraid of his own emotions.

"Danmark, I don't like what you're doing. Stop—"

"Oh, so you care about what I do now?" Denmark cut in bitingly. Norway flinched and he looked away, teeth gritting together.

Denmark sneered, his grip tightening on his axe as he regarded Norway.

"You said it yourself, Norge." He hissed. Norway's breath hitched slightly at his nation name and Denmark almost felt bad. Almost. He started it anyway. He had no right to be hurt.

"We're not together anymore." Denmark reminded him softly as he stared at the pale Norwegian. Norway stared at the bright walls of the hallway they were in. He regarded the painting of a green meadow, swallowing heavily.

"'_I don't love you anymore, Danmark_."" He mocked in a false copy of Norway's voice. Norway turned to him, and there's a clench to his jaw now that Denmark can see.

"Matthias." He says, voice strained and in pain while his face stayed carefully blank.

Denmark barks out a harsh laugh. "Oh, so I'm Matthias now, huh?"

Norway's lips part and he looks hurt. Denmark chuckles darkly. He has no right to be hurt. Norway shakes his head, and he sounds a little desperate when he speaks again.

"Matthias, I—I care about you—"

"I hate this, Norge." Denmark breaks in softly as he tilts his head. Norway frowns. "I hate pretending that I'm not in love with you when I know that you don't even love me back."

There's a pained look in Norway's eyes now and Denmark stares at him. It's not often that he sees an expression directed towards him other than annoyance in Norway's face. It's been a while since he saw Norway smile actually. Maybe he should have figured it out earlier then. Maybe he should realized when those harsh words stopped being teasing and instead started to be said with intent.

"Don't you think I hate pretending too?" Norway bites out, almost as if the words hurt him. Denmark stares at him incredulously.

The two of them frown at each other and Denmark bites his lip as realization hits him. He looks away, eyesight blurring.

"All you had to do was tell me, Norge." He chokes out. Norway's eyebrows furrow.

"Fuck, man. To think that all of those times you smiled at me, all those times we made 'love', were those pretend too? Were you just pretending you loved me for the sake of our nations? For the sake of our union?"

Norway stares at him in confusion. "Hva? Matthias, what the hell are talking about?" Denmark looks back at his fellow Nordic, and there are tears in his eyes now.

"Did you ever actually love me, Lukas?" Denmark asks, and he's afraid of what Norway's going to answer. He's afraid that the answer will be no; and he'll be broken again.

Norway's eyes widen and his lips part. "Matthias—"

"Did you ever actually love me, Lukas?" Denmark cuts in, interrupting whatever it is that Norway was going to say. He didn't need to hear it. All he needs to know right now is if what they shared was even real or just something in Denmark's mind.

They stare at each other, and then Norway looks away. That's enough answer for Denmark. He takes in a shuddering breath.

"I loved you, Lukas. You were everything to me."

"Yes."

"I gave up so much for you."

"Yes, Matthias."

"I've tried so hard to be right for you."

"Matthias."

"But I guess it never really worked, huh?"

"Matthias!"

Denmark flinched. "Hvad?"

"Ja, you idiot. I've loved you then, and I love you now." Norway forces out, cheeks reddening. He looks away and Denmark blinks.

"I—what?" He asks dumbfounded.

"Jeg elsker deg." Norway says firmly, determination setting his jaw and Denmark can see he means it, or at least believes that he means it. Denmark stares at him in shock. His lips part and a strangled sound escapes him. He can't speak though, and Norway bites his lip at the lack of response. He looks away and nods in understanding.

"I just thought you should know," He said flatly before he turned on his heel and left. Denmark's eyes widened and he reaches out hopelessly as Norway walks away from him.

"Jeg elsker dig!" He calls out once he regains his voice, eyes wide.

Norway doesn't look back.

Denmark hasn't been more confused in his lengthy life than he is now.

xxx

"Arthur, please pick up. I love you. I miss you." America whispered brokenly, his words being recorded to England's voicemail. He scrubbed a hand over his tired face and scrunched up hs features. He ended the call and sighed.

He tried to call England once again and ths time it went straight to voicemail. "Arthur." He said desperately, voice hitching pathetically. That was all he said before he hurriedly disconnected. He didn't want England to hear him break down. He was a hero, and they were strong.

America sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled shakily. He could do this. He didn't just fuck up the best thing that's ever happened to him. England and he would make up, they've always made up. They've fought about America's promiscuity ever since they got together and America honestly thought England wasn't that bothered by it anymore.

Apparently not. England just didn't understand that this need to connect to other nations wasn't because he wasn't satisfied with their sexual relationship—far from it, actually, it was way different to make love to someone you had actual feelings for and to fuck someone for the sex. And America really did value and enjoy sex with England more.

It's just that his nation went out of its way to establish diplomatic relationships with different countries and that somehow translated to America wanting to establish physical relationships with different countries. And hey, even if the United States of America gained new partners and allies, it still kept its "Special Relationship" with England intact. It was the exact same thing for Alfred and Arthur. England—Arthur—was special.

America just needed England to see that. Alfred needed Arthur just as much as America needed England. America recognized that human part of him that yearned for love, and he knew that Alfred had found it in Arthur. America smirked smugly as a thought crossed his mind.

Arthur had found it in Alfred too.

xxx

"Lukas!" Denmark called out and knocked heavily on the hotel door of Norway and Iceland's shared suite. His suite too at first, but his breakup with Norway meant that he wasn't willing to spend the night where he was unwelcome.

No one answered the door and Denmark scowled. He pressed on those fancy buttons that activated a buzzer that could be heard everywhere in the giant suite.

He waited a few seconds and then pressed on the buzzer again long and hard. He grinned as he heard the loud buzz through the door. Before he could buzz a third time, the door was yanked open and he came face to face with a scowling Norway.

"What do want?" He said irritably, hair mussed and he wasn even wearing the clip that kept his wayward curl in place. Underneath his eyes there were dark eyebags, he had clearly spent the night awake. It was either because of the jet lag—and they've been here for a week already, so it probably wasn't so—or Denmark that had kept him up.

Of course, Denmark reasoned, there could be other reasons, such as his country's economy, or a bad stomach, or just general insomnia, but he'd like to think it was because of him. He was a bit of a narcissist, but who could blame him?

"I want you." Denmark said softly and Norway blinked, his irritable look melting into surprise. He huffed and looked away, pink dusting his cheeks and Denmark smiled.

"I think we should talk then, ja?" Norway said quietly and Denmark nodded in agreement. "This is long overdue." Norway sighed before stepping back to make room for Denmark.

"Come in."

xxx

England listened to the new voicemail. It was almost exactly the same as the hundreds left before it. He sighed and looked up at his ceiling. His bed was soft and comforting, but all England wanted to feel was America's chest at his back, lean arms around his waist, and toned legs tangled in between his. America was an octopus after sex, practically wrapping himself around England's sweaty and sated body as he tried to press himself even closer.

"I love you." How many times has England heard this before? Not just from America, but from other nations. Other people. And how many times have they meant it? England knows America loves him. He can hear it in the way America talks to him sometimes, soft and reverent. Almost awed. He could see it too, love reflected in America's bright blue gaze as his eyes appreciated every part of the nation spread out on his bed. He could feel it in gentle strokes down his back or tight grips on his hand. Believe him, England knows that America loves him.

"Please." What was he begging for exactly? Forgiveness? For England to call him back? A second—no, hundredth chance to redeem himself? England wasn't sure if he could give him any of that. England scowled and rolled over to face America's side of the bed. It was empty and cold, of course. America hadn't gone back to England with him. England should be used to being alone in his large bed, but a few weeks sharing America's bed had led to countless nights with a warm presence draped over him.

"I miss you." England squeezed his eyes shut. Of course he missed the idiot back. He was an integral part of England's life. Without him, England felt incomplete. There was an ache in his chest, a throbbing in his mind that spoke of loss and pain. He needed America. But England needed America to need him back. He needed America to only want him and him alone. He didn't understand why America wasn't content with him. Wasn't he good enough? Maybe if he put out more often and wasn't so uptight, America wouldn't keep running to other nations for a good lay.

"I'm sorry." All England needed was America. He loved him. He was his everything. And he didn't hold the same place in America's life as America had in his. It hurt. And sorry couldn't fix that. Sorry didn't mean shit unless you meant it. Sorry didn't mean _anything_ if America kept going back to willing bodies that weren't England's. If England wasn't enough for him, then god damn it, he wouldn't bloody depend on that wanker. While England and the United States of America were close, it didn't mean that Arthur and Alfred had to be too.

xxx

"I saw you." Norway blurted out, his features pinched. Denmark raised an eyebrow in confusion. He trailed a fingertip from Norway's bare shoulder to his hand. The much smaller man furrowed his eyebrows and blinked at Denmark's index tracing an invisible pattern over Norway's fingers and the back of his hand.

Norway shook his head and scowled, looking away. "You and America. That night. In the bathroom." He raised his head proudly, obviously embarrassed. Denmark was quiet and hummed slightly before moving his hand under the covers to splay over Norway's smooth thigh possessively. He patted him encouragingly and Norway sighed as he ducked his head, embarrassment making the most of him.

"You had him pinned against the wall and his head was thrown back and he looked beautiful. I get why others can't resist even though they know England has a claim on him." Norway said in a rush, voice flat. "And then _you_ came and you made that little hiss you make and I could just imagine your face in my head so clearly. It shook me, Matthias, to realize that I knew exactly how you looked at the peak of pleasure and that I–" Norway's voice chocked and he stopped talking, flushing slightly. Denmark looked down at him and smiled softly.

"You?" He prompted and Norway sighed. "That I missed you. And that I love you." He said in annoyance and Denmark grinned. He pulled Norway in closer to his body and naked skin met naked skin. His body fit perfectly with his lover's, just like always. Norway sighed contentedly and tangled his leg in between Denmark's as he snuggled up against the bigger man's firm chest.

"I love you too." He said cheerfully and easy. He dropped his chin to the top of Norway's head and hummed blissfully. And all was well.

Except maybe with America and England.

* * *

Ja - yes

Hvorfor - Why

Hvad (Danish)/Hva (Norwegian) - what

Danmark - Denmark (in scandinavian, which is different from nordic, btw)

Norge - Norway (same as above)

Jeg elsker dig (Danish)/ Jeg elsker deg (Norwegian) - I love you.

Hi. So. I have a boyfriend. And this story suddenly became more personal, and started to show my insecurities of not being good enough than it was a few months ago. My boyfriend's been... Asking for pictures of my boobs, and I've been saying no because I find that stupid, and risky and I'm just not comfortable with it. He has this collection of pictures of girls' boobs or them in bikinis from the internet (like Reddit) or from Facebook or Instagram and sometimes he sends them to me, because hey, I like girls also, but it leaves a sick feeling in my stomach. Sometimes he says that this certain girl looks like one of our mutal friends, and in one occasion, my _best friend_ and I got kind of upset. Why does he have to look at topless girls who coincedentally look like someone we know? Am i not enough for him? Do my boobs really matter in our relationship? Is that all you want from me? So yeah. Part of England's thoughts are my own.


End file.
